


The Stars, the Sun, and the Sky

by de_scientia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Blindness, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Not Comrades Compliant, Political Alliances, Prophecy, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Strained Friendships, Time Shenanigans, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_scientia/pseuds/de_scientia
Summary: Two unlikely allies come to find a surprising amount of loyalty where they never expected it when the apocalypse brings the Royal Advisor of the fallen kingdom of Lucis and the former Commodore of Niflheim’s 86th Airborne Unit together. But when Ignis is forced to choose sides between his brothers-in-arms and what he believes to be right and true, will he prioritize the good of mankind over his long held allegiances even if it means taking a steep chance on a former enemy?
Relationships: Aranea Highwind/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia & Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Stars, the Sun, and the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a story idea that I've been toying with on the back burner for a couple of years. I originally planned to write it in its entirety and *then* post it, but so much of my work never gets shared that way (me: hopeless perfectionist), so I've recently decided that I'm just going to post my fics chapter by chapter. That's a new and exciting tactic for me, haha. Please do let me know what you think if you read it, since it's likely that reader feedback will be the motivation and anxiety repellant that keep me going. :)

**Prologue.**

_A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the Light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past. Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own. The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid. To cast out the Usurper and usher in dawn’s light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all. Now enter into Reflection, that the light of Providence shine within._

_—_

The raucous thunder of heavy boots against metal grates. The ragged breaths of three men desperately running at top speed. The distant shrieks of daemons in pursuit of prey, and the pounding of his own heart. This is what filled Ignis Scientia’s senses as they raced through the complex, his fingers digging into Gladio’s forearm and his legs beneath him operating frantically on muscle memory, trusting they will land upon ground he cannot see. There was no time to waste on caution or even prudence; Noct had gone on ahead to claim the Crystal’s power in a desperate bid to stymie the onslaught of daemons threatening to overcome them here in Zegnautus Keep, and Ignis alone understood the full scope of the fire they play with.

_Please be safe..._

The prophecy was dreadfully clear in its expectations. Noctis was to lose his life to the Crystal’s power one day, but only in one specific location thousands of leagues from where they were now. It was that condition upon which Ignis gambled his safety now—his _life_ —and the ethical matter of not disclosing the full nature of the risks did not elude him. But shortly after Noctis made it out of the hangar, the onslaught had suddenly _stopped_. 

As though they had been _waiting_ for something...

They raced along a long metal catwalk now, shaky and hollow under the hail of their ungentle feet. Ignis was still poorly accustomed to blindness, and the marvelous fact that he had not yet tripped was due perhaps to a decade of agility training as much as it was to Gladio being a supportive guide. But he had bearings enough to know that Prompto was just ahead of them, and when the echo of his fleet footsteps changed, Ignis knew they had reached a different surface and a large room.

“Where are we?” he asked when they all slowed to a stop. “What is happening? Is Noct here?”

Before his companions could answer him, they were greeted by a sickening laughter, unctuous and smug, slow and roiling, like a pestilent slime oozing from every crevice and coating them with its unwelcome, insufferable mirth. Ignis’s first instinct was to physically recoil from it, but that of course achieved nothing. He clutched his hand around his cane, his jaw clenched so tightly he feared cracking a tooth. _Ardyn._

And by the sound of it, _no_ trace of Noct.

“Noct?!” Prompto called out.

“Where’s Noct?!” demanded Gladio with a furor that shook his whole core. 

“Noct?” Ardyn questioned with faux innocence laid on so thick that Ignis could have sliced it with a knife and served it with paté. “Oh _dear_ , you’ve just missed him. I’m afraid he’s stepped out for a spell. Or rather, he’s stepped _in_.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Gladio growled.

“Your King has answered his calling,” Ardyn said simply as he made to leave. “All we’ve left to do now is wait, and I don’t know how _you_ fellows intend to bide the time, but I’ve a home to redecorate and so _little_ good help left to assist with tapestry hanging and the like. So _if_ you’ll excuse me.”

“Like hell!” Gladio took a swing with his sword. It hissed through the air, and the wind displaced by the wide arc of it buffeting toward Ignis and causing him to step back instinctively. But the haughty chancellor deftly dodged and continued on his merry way.

Until a gunshot rang out.

Ardyn thudded to the ground.

Something rolled toward Ignis and stopped just before his feet. (His head? No, it was far too light.)

 _Surely_ it couldn’t be _that easy_.

The three of them shifted awkwardly, uncertainly. It was Prompto who put words (of a sort) to their shared inquiry. “I—is he— Did I…?”

 _Could_ he have…? Could it truly be—

The bundle at Ignis’s feet shuffled and obliterated whatever hope had nearly threatened to build in those tense and tender seconds. Ardyn climbed to his feet, collected whatever had rolled toward Ignis, and swung around to face the trio.

(Of _course_ it could not be that easy. Ignis knew that better than anyone.)

“Well _that_ was rude. Gentlemen, I shall extend an invitation to the housewarming party when all is in place. I trust you know the address.”

Ignis had paid the price of his eyesight to attempt to defeat Ardyn once before. A frantic, passionate bid to save someone he loved from further suffering, and all that had come of it in the end was a world of eternal darkness. Nor was it the world of eternal darkness that he had _meant_ to embrace for his cause, but instead an ever-present reminder of his failure and what it had cost him.

Had cost _them_.

There were no words for this. None. Not from Ignis; not from the others. They had lost Noct and were powerless against the man who had taken him. An _immortal_. And now they stood there in silence, bound by the gravity of all they faced as the man sauntered away. What else could they do? The best they could hope for, right now, was to live to fight another day.

And so Ardyn took his leave without obstacle. _Ardyn_ , who had slain Lady Lunafreya. _Ardyn_ , who had baited Noct ever closer to his prophesied death. Ardyn, who taunted them in their helplessness even now. They let him go.

They, of the Crownsguard. The King’s Swordsworn.

It was Gladio who broke the silence, releasing all his frustration with a primal yell and a loud _clang_ as metal struck, Ignis supposed, the holy relic of their kingdom. That very notion, as well as the earsplitting sound it caused, made him flinch. Gladio’s ragged breaths and the shimmery sound of his weapon being returned to the armiger were the only things that pierced the tense silence.

“…What did he mean by ‘in’?” ventured Prompto.

“In _that_ damn thing.”

“ _Inside_ the Crystal?” Ignis questioned. “Why would you conclude—”

“He said it. He pointed at it. I’m out of options, Iggy.”

Ignis inhaled sharply and didn’t bother to question Gladio any further, but it was with an uncomfortable shifting of his weight on his feet as it occurred to him just how many context clues he was likely to find himself deprived of evermore. _Purifying all by the Light of the Crystal… Now enter into Reflection, that the light of Providence shine within._ Gods, had they misunderstood the Crystal’s purpose and function all along?

“Nooooct! Hey! You in there, buddy?!” There was the unmistakable sound of flesh being singed, and Prompto hissing through his teeth. “Ah!”

Ignis frowned. “No one can touch it who is not of royal blood,” he informed Prompto with the quiet resignation of a man who was simultaneously wondering how on Eos they were to move it given that very fact. He turned his head toward Prompto and listened for any further signs of distress, but if he was in any notable pain, he was silent about it. “Are you all right?”

“Ah, heh… Freckled kid like me?” Prompto dismissed. “I’ve been burnt worse. But, uh…how do we get to Noct?”

“And more damningly,” posed Gladio, “how the hell do we get the Crystal out of here?”

“They got it _in_ somehow,” Ignis concluded. “Whatever they used to transport it here must still be inside the Keep. Perhaps in the hangar.”

“And perhaps it was handled by fifty people who are now AWOL or daemon food. I’m strong, but I’m not that strong.”

“Nevertheless, let’s start there.” Ignis tapped his cane against the ground and turned to make his way down the catwalk, but as soon as he did, something about the size of a monkey, screeching and screaming and cackling with daemonic glee, dropped from the ceiling and landed on his face.

Ignis gasped and found himself landing hard on his backside before he could even process what had sent him there. His cane slipped from his grasp and he probed about frantically for it until his fingertips made contact with the familiar smooth handle that was seconds from rolling off the edge of the platform forevermore.

“Iggy!”

The dagger was in his other hand at once and with a quick upward slice he set the thing to screaming for entirely less gleeful reasons. After that, it was pulled off him with a grunt from Gladio and flung into the abyss that surrounded either side of the catwalk, shrieking the whole way down.

Prompto’s hands were at his back at once, one for support and one securely gripping his arm to help pull him to his feet. Gladio was already five feet ahead of them, fending off what sounded to be an onslaught of imps and chittering arachnoids.

And then.

They started coming from _behind_ them.

 _—Completely undeterred_ by the Crystal.

By the sounds of it, they were great in number: giggling imps and hissing arachnids and the clattering of skeleton feet echoing against woven mesh steel. Ignis was unsure how large the catwalk was, but it began to sway ever so noticeably beneath his feet as he backed cautiously against the others.

“Uh… Time to go!” Prompto patted Ignis’s arm and drew his gun in his other hand. Clutching his cane, Ignis hurried down the catwalk after Gladio while Prompto carried the rear, firing off far too many shots to make Ignis comfortable about the horde that he surmised followed them.

They fled the keep, the egress hardly more familiar than the entry had been and far less friendly. Had he the time for thoughtful contemplation, Ignis might have held a fond appreciation for the skill and coordination that they managed in those hazardous minutes. Prompto stayed by his side and faithfully reported frenzied updates ( _“Three spider ladies on your right, Iggy”_ and _“Watch out for that ice bomb”_ and _“Oh no, there’s like, ten more coming!”_ ) punctuated by agile exchanges of well-placed gunfire and dutifully covering his companion with a knack for quick thinking and multitasking that would have made his Crownsguard trainers proud, were anyone left to witness it.

Gladio took point without question, a cyclone of angry steel cutting through swathes of daemonic forces that threatened to overwhelm them yards ahead of Ignis and Prompto. By Ignis’s count, they must have slain sixty by the time they reached the exit. 

Not that they had a clear plan of action once they got there. They emerged onto a sidewalk that could not have been anywhere near the subway platform on which they had left the ruins of the Regalia; and even then, without Cindy Aurum and a miracle, the King’s trusty steed was naught but a pile of scrap metal. They had battled their way to a reprieve for the time being, panting and desperate to recover some stamina by the side of a nearby building, but the roar of daemons behind them told Ignis they had only mere seconds to consider their next steps. 

In fact, the daemonic cries were coming from multiple directions. The city was overwhelmed, and so too were they about to be. 

“Get ready!” Gladio warned.

Ignis flexed his grip around the handle of his dagger, spinning it in his hand and catching it again just to be sure his fingers were properly limber and ready to face what may very well be their swan song. But before the daemons closed in on them, a more immediate threat loomed overhead. The familiar whirring motor of an Imperial dropship encroached quickly upon them with alarming precision, wind from its engines whipping all manner of dirt and city debris around them.

Prompto stopped in his tracks. “Is that what I think it is?!”

“Huh. Sure seems so.”

The hatch began to open and Ignis was ready, dagger poised to be hurled upward at the first sound of infantry clattering its way out of the vehicle. At this distance, at least, Ignis could be of more practical use; he could attempt to strike the enemy before the enemy closed in on him, and his friends were unlikely to get caught in his sloppy crossfire when it was aimed _upward_.

It was Gladio’s strong hand that pushed his arm down. 

“Not this one, buddy.”

The anticipated sound of a squadron of MT boots never came, leaving his hackles raised regardless. In its place was a woman’s sharp voice. “Hey!”

Realization dawned upon Ignis. “Aranea.” The dagger vanished from his hand. 

Her voice was strained over the roar of the engine but held no less of its usual sardonic edge peppered with a wry sense of laissez-faire nonchalance. “You boys just gonna stand there or actually get out of this hell hole?”

“Try landing that thing first,” Gladio shouted back to her. “We don’t all jump thirty feet into the air.”

“Slackers.”

Ignis reached out and gripped Gladio’s arm. “We _can’t_ leave Noct or the Crystal behind.”

“Iggy, if we don’t get out of here now, _none_ of us are making it out. Noct wasn’t _inside_ it; he was just— gone.”

“Gladio—”

The ship descended and touched ground with a heavy metallic thud, but before the hatch was fully open Ignis heard daemons groaning their way out of the ground behind them. 

“All right, landlubbers, all aboard your flight out of hell. I suggest quickly.”

Prompto whirled toward the daemons, feet quickly dancing into a defensive pose just to Ignis’s left. “Here comes more trouble!”

“Get Iggy on board first.”

“I can fight,” he protested, but Prompto was already ushering him toward the ship just as the hatch door finally touched the ground. 

“Watch your st—”

Ignis’s foot caught on the hatch and he would have tumbled were it not for Prompto’s arms already at his back. It hardly would have been the first or the most embarrassing spill he’d ever taken, but under present circumstances, it felt like defeat. 

A slim but heavily armored hand clasped his and pulled him aboard. “Easy there, Four-Eyes. It’s only a few. Your buddies have got this one.”

“Noct,” he rasped, wiping at some wet bit of splattered blood on his cheek with the back of his glove. It was only when it stung that he realized it was his own. “He’s—” he couldn’t say _gone_ ; that sounded as though he had perished, and that was not a thought Ignis was willing to entertain. “—unaccounted for. And the daemons no longer seem deterred by the Crystal.”

“We lost your ‘King of Light’ _and_ the daemon repellant?” Aranea took a deep breath. “Well that’s going to make everything a whole lot cheerier around here.” Her sarcastic drawl was punctuated with the pushing of an unfamiliar teardrop shaped object into his hand, pleasantly cool to the touch. 

“What’s this?”

“A potion?”

Ah. He felt toward the top point of it, where a metal cap wanted unscrewing. “It’s nothing like ours.”

“Imperial issue. The _King’s magic_ doesn’t reach us, bucko.”

If they didn’t find and retrieve Noct soon, it was questionable how long the King’s magic would be reaching any of them, which was one of only several hundred reasons why they needed to locate him posthaste. Ignis removed the cap and sipped the thick ambrosia sparingly. Even still, it slid soothingly down his throat and instantly relieved minor abrasions all over his body, filing him with a warm tingle and leaving his skin slightly itchy. He shrugged his shoulder, rubbing a particular patch of mended skin against the material, and handed the rest of the bottle back to Aranea. “Thank you.”

“Keep it. Hey, what are allies for, right?” She clapped her hand heartily against his shoulder then made her way for the hatch, where Gladio and Prompto were thundering their way in, panting and slumping dramatically against the thick metal walls. 

“They keep coming,” Prompto gasped. “We need to get out of here.”

Gladio groaned as he shifted his leg and Ignis could only wonder what sort of injuries he had sustained out there. “ _Fast_.”

Ignis ran through a million scenarios in his mind. Staying precisely where they were was indeed no option at all; the daemons were sure to overwhelm them in short order, at which point they would be absolutely no use to Noct regardless of where he was.

_…purifying all by the Light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past. Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own. The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness…_

_‘Noct wasn’t inside it; he was just— gone.’_

Anxiety gripped his chest at the thought that _the Crystal itself_ may have already claimed Noct’s life (and that he— _he!_ —had sent Noct _running to it—oh Gods please let Noct be safe_ ) but if that was so, then surely by the parameters of the very same prophecy, the daemons ought to have been gone by now. That meant that Noct was alive _somewhere_ , and unless and until that somewhere was at the Throne of Lucis, the gods needed him to remain alive, wherever he was.

The gods did not have any such explicitly stated needs of the individuals currently aboard this ship.

“We must retreat,” he agreed, hating the words even as they left his own lips. 

Aranea pounded her hand against the control and the hatch began to close. By the sound of it, the daemons outside were reluctant to be declined an invitation indoors, which the Commodore reiterated by jabbing her lance at them until the metal door boomed shut.

“Boys! Take us out of here.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Biggs’s voice scratched through an intercom as they quickly began a swift ascent into the sky.

A momentary relief that Biggs and Wedge had made it off the train safely was hardly able to alleviate his mountain of other concerns. Ignis slumped wearily to the ground against the corrugated cargo bay wall, seated beside Gladio, and passed him the potion still in his hand as they weathered the turbulence of their take off. “Have we failed him?”

Gladio eagerly took the potion and didn’t reply until he was finished drinking. Even then, he wiped his mouth with his hand while Prompto finished off the bottle on his other side and took his time in granting a response to the question. “When Insomnia fell,” he said, “there was this guy in the car who kept telling us we couldn’t despair until we knew anything for certain, even though it was all over the damn papers. Even when everything was falling apart, you couldn’t shake him. Haven’t seen that guy in a while.”

Ignis leaned the back of his head against the wall with an exhausted and defeated sigh. It would be nice to close his ears right about now in the same way that he might have once closed his eyes. Shut out their voices, the rustling of movements, the hum of the engine, just for a brief moment of rest. How he had taken for granted something as simple as a momentary reprieve from sensory input, as well as the ease with which he could resume it. 

“Haven’t seen him either.”

Gladio squeezed his shoulder. “We’re not about to give up on Noct. But wherever he is, we need more backup to find him. We’ll regroup with Cor and assemble whatever he’s got.”

“Indeed.”

A heavy door slid shut as Aranea left the cargo bay to join her men in the cockpit, he supposed, and Ignis briefly wondered if she always flew while standing and walking around like that. His balance had been that good once and he ought not to have marveled at it, but sitting on the ground as he was, in the dark, this exhausted and defeated, he did not think he could stand right now and hope to stay on his feet. He also did not bother.

Neither, it seemed, did Prompto nor Gladio. And so three defeated knights flew out of Gralea, leaving King and Crystal behind.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not super AO3 savvy but I believe prologues fuck with automatic chapter numbering, right? So when I post Chapter 1, I will actually add it to the end of this chapter, and then Chapter 2 and so forth should be correctly numbered. I don't want to deal with chapter names.
> 
> I'm not sure how that will affect notifications if anyone chooses to subscribe to this, but you can always follow me on Twitter ( @ ra/vy _ n/everm/ore - without the spaces and slashes) for updates!


End file.
